When The World Bleeds Red
by chilli-peppersyd
Summary: After his capture Neal begins to realise that the reason behind it all has roots that stem deep into his childhood. Deeper than he ever dared imagine. When the past comes creeping back, the future becomes its battlefield. Post season 5 finale. My take on Neal's capture and all the events that follow.
1. Caffrey Cut His Anklet, Right?

**When the World Bleeds Red**

Chapter One: Caffrey Cut His Anklet, Right?

-.-

Elizabeth Burke was outside in the garden. Her husband, Peter could see her from his perch on a stool at the kitchen island. She was wearing a large floppy gardening hat and a handkerchief was tied around her neck. She was re-potting a select few small plants that she wished to take when she left for Washington DC. When she turned her head to the side the fading sunrays caught and lit up her profile. She was radiant.

Peter still wasn't sure how he felt about her decision regarding the moving matter. Two weeks ago he would have told anyone that D.C was the right step in his life. The job offer was one that many an FBI agent worked their entire careers for. So why now, after being offered such a highly sought out position, did it no longer feel like a reward? Instead of gaining pleasure from the mass of packed boxes around he felt suffocated.

Peter drummed his fingers idly on the marble countertop. Empty, that's how the house felt. With all the major appliances, many of the plates, cutlery and other kitchen necessities packed away, he felt like a stranger in his own home.

The silence was shattered when his phone went off. It was a high-pitched alarm that echoed around the bare kitchen. Peter jerked in his seat. That alarm…it would only have gone off if…he snatched up his phone. The blinking alert made his stomach drop. Neal Caffrey had cut his anklet.

He left without saying anything to Elizabeth. He'd wait until he had more information.

-.-

The FBI was in an uproar when Peter walked in. Clinton Jones and Diana Berrigan, his closet colleagues, were hurrying back and forth with their cell phone glued to their ears. Other agents were answering the phones that were ringing in loud, shrill tones non-stop. It was pure mayhem. When Diana spied him she excused herself to whoever was on the line and strode over.

"Boss, Caffrey cut his anklet." Her words came out as a breathy puff. Peter nodded.

"I got the alert." He stood there, hands in his pockets, and tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. Neal cut his anklet. He was gone.

'Don't do anything rash, Neal.' He'd told the younger man earlier when he broke the news about the failed attempt at an early release. Clearly the advice had gone right over his partner's head.

"But why-," Diana cut herself off mid-sentence to return to her phone when a sharp exclamation came through. She gave Peter an apologetic look before walking off. "Yes I'm here. I do apologize; I had to speak to someone. No I'm not evading your questions."

Peter made for his office but was intercepted by Jones. He wanted to know if he was going to head the hunt for Caffrey. Peter muttered a simple no, then ignoring Jones perplexed look, took off for his safe haven.

His office was bare. He'd packed everything a few days ago in preparation for the move to DC. Peter touched a finger to the spot where a picture of Elizabeth had been. He sweet smile turned up at the camera made for a perfect shot. It was his favourite picture in the world. But now it was gone, packed away along with the rest of his New York memories – just like Neal.

Peter sat in his chair and ran his hand over the desk. What was he even doing here? He had no intention of searching for Neal. If he did, he would only end up bringing him back to chains that he deserved to be free of. That was no life fit for anyone. Neal had earned his freedom. Damnit he deserved it.

'I can't do that to him.' Peter thought. 'After everything, I just can't.'

The day went on. It was nearing sundown and agents were winding off for the night. Jones came and knocked at the door again with the same question but Peter denied an answer. The sun set and the office slowly emptied out. Peter didn't leave. He sat in his chair staring out the window and watched the dreary sky go by. It was an angry grey, black in some places. The clouds would cry tonight.

And he was right. The downpour started just when he left the office at a quarter to nine. Peter fumbled for his car keys deciding to make a break for the vehicle at the end of the street.

'Park underground next time.' He reminded himself. 'No matter how troublesome if may seem.'

Peter poked his head out the door. A couple raindrops smacked his nose. He withdrew, took a deep breath, and then broke into a run. He made it to his car in under a minute but he was still soaked through. He slid into the front seat without a care for what the water would do to the leather.

"Finally, suit!" A voice yelled. Peter jumped in fright, hands going for his firearm in response to the unexpected noise. "I surrender!" the voice continued.

Peter turned slowly. Mozzie, Neal's best friend, was sitting in the backseat with his hands in the air. Peter released his gun.

"Did you break into my car, Mozzie?"

"I think the answer to that is obvious." Mozzie gestured vaguely. "But that is beside the point, suit." The bespectacled man adjusted his glasses. "Neal's in trouble."

"Already?" Peter raised an eyebrow. "He ran barely five hours ago, how is that possible?"

Mozzie mouthed a word that looked like a rather offensive expletive. "You think he ran?"

"Didn't he?" Peter fished his phone out of his pocket and held it up for Mozzie to see. The alert, now on silent, was still flashing on the screen. Peter hadn't bothered to turn it off.

"Suit. Neal didn't run." Mozzie's words were so firm that Peter almost believed him.

"Mozzie, look."

"He didn't run, he was kidnapped!" Mozzie yelled at the same time Peter finished saying.

"I'm not going to chase him."

The two men paused, and regarded one another.

"What was that?" Peter wasn't sure if he'd heard right.

"He was taken." Mozzie repeated slowly. "But what were you saying about not chasing him if he really had run? I like where you're going with that."

Peter's glare could have cut through ice. Mozzie had to look away after a moment. He stared out the window and knitted his fingers together. When he next spoke, his voice was quiet, tentative.

"Neal was abducted, Peter. I was there. I don't know who took him. I'd just said bye to him a minute earlier. I was leaving the park when I looked over my shoulder and saw everything."

Peter's heart rate sped up. "You were in a park?"

"Yes."

"Then there must have been eyewitnesses."

"I guess."

Peter turned around and started the car.

"What are you doing?" Mozzie yelped. "Where are you taking me?" He tried to exit but Peter had locked the doors.

"Home, so we can talk about this more." Peter pulled his phone out. "And I have some important calls to make.

-.-

Elizabeth didn't take the news too well. By the time he arrived home Peter had called the director and Bruce to alert them of the situation. Neal hadn't run, he'd been taken. At first his words were met with doubt, but after insisting that witnesses in the area would be able to attest to the fact, he had them convinced.

'Find him, Burke." The director told him before hanging up without so much as a goodbye. Translation: 'We can't afford to lose our asset.' Peter decided when he did find Neal he wouldn't tell the FBI a goddamn thing.

Breaking the news to El was the hardest part. She was already upset on Neal's behalf over the FBI stiffing him with the release fiasco. She was even more distraught over his capture. She stood in the living room, hands curled around the laundry basket and looked ready to cry.

"Oh hun." Peter moved closer to her. She shifted away. Behind him Mozzie was making himself scarce behind the living room curtains that were being left to last minute packing. Elizabeth dropped the basket to the floor and sat on the sofa. She ran her hands through her hair.

"When will it stop, Peter?" her voice was soft. "He's been through so much already why…" she trailed off, turning her head to stare at the wall. "When will it stop?"

Peter didn't have a suitable reply so he sat beside her and hugged her instead.

-.-

The air was thick and rife with an unidentifiable stench. Neal Caffrey took several deep, labored breaths and reminded himself to keep calm. It would not do for him to lose his cool in a situation like this.

He was lying in the back of a moving truck with a hood over his head. His wrists were bound behind his back with zip ties. They'd been pulled tight enough to dig into his skin every time he tried to maneuver out of them.

It was five hours since he'd been captured; he'd been keeping count. Panic started to set in again. Where were these men taking him?

'Breathe, relax.' His mind reminded him. He breathed in deep again.

"What you gonna' do with him, boss?" a voice floated from the front of the truck to his space in the back.

"Anything, until he talks." Was the soft reply. Neal shuddered. That didn't bode well for him. He had to escape. He'd worry later about what the man meant by _'until he talks.'_

With great effort Neal managed to break free of the zip ties. His wrists were bloody and scraped in the end but at least they were off. He removed the hood and sat up. The space was small. He barely fit, wedged between two metal straits.

Neal grimaced at the pain radiating up his hands. He rubbed his wrists, coating his palms with blood. Those zip ties were meant to hurt, he realised. His captors probably knew he was an escape risk and wanted it to hurt like hell if he tried.

The truck was moving fast. They were either on a highway or a lonely road. Neal wondered what the next best course of action to be. If he kicked at the door and they were on a highway he could end up tumbling out into unwelcome traffic. If they were on a long stretch of road his chances of being gunned down while running away where high.

_'But it's still hard to hit a moving target.'_ He told himself. _'I have to try, either way.'_

With that, he wiggled down closer to the door, lifted his leg and gave it one hell of a kick. The jarring effect of his foot connecting with solid metal made even his spine feel like it was trembling. _'Jesus.'_ Neal's mouth pinched into a bead. He kicked the door again.

One kick later, it budged. Neal felt elated. He slammed his foot against the door again. He did not expect it at all when it flew open. The shock made him pause for a second and the truck pulled to a stop.

Adrenaline kicked in. Neal scrambled out the back and took off like a shot. The moon was high in the sky and the stars twinkled down. The road was wet and a light drizzle was falling. Behind him the sound of gunfire came. "Shoot him in the foot, aim for his thigh!" Someone was screaming.

Neal ran for his life. The car had been going down a quiet road surrounded by trees, thank God. He darted into the foliage as fast his legs could carry him.

"Do not let him get away!" the bellowing voice carried on the wind and only served to egg him on. Neal didn't stop running until his breath was coming out in sharp pants and a mini headache had formed in his right temple.

He wasn't looking where he was going and stumbled over a large tree root. He went down with a thud, and lay there to catch his breath. No footfalls could be heard. His captors were either far behind or had decided not to follow him into the forest in the dead of night.

Neal sat up after he'd caught his breath. He surveyed his surroundings with wary eyes. He had no idea where he was and thus, was unable to tell if bears were home to the trees he was seeking refuge in. Hopefully they weren't.

He got up and listened. No sound could be heard except for the wind rustling against the tree leaves. He walked a few steps, paused and listened again. This he repeated for a while before he was convinced he wasn't being followed.

Time to find shelter. He'd hightail it back to Manhattan first thing in the morning. He walked for what felt like ages before happening upon a grove, which was surrounded at the roots with brambles. There was a space in the middle just wide enough to fit one. Neal tucked himself into the wedge. It was a tight fit but he made it work.

Once settled he stared up at the sky, arms curled around his legs that were pulled close to his body. He rested his chin on his knees and regarded the moon with round eyes. He resembled a small child with his face set like that. Neal didn't care, age be damned. With the threat of dangerous men after him and the uncertainty that came with being stuck in an unknown area, he felt less than three feet tall.

He fell asleep dreaming of his warm bed back home in June's loft. Unfortunately, he woke to a less than pleasant reality barely two hours later. A gun, pointed right at his face. The man holding the gun was the same one who he'd spoken to in the park before his capture. Neal could just make out his profile in the moonlight.

"You try an escape like this again." He said in his soft voice, cocking the gun in warning. "And I will make you rue the day you were born."


	2. Live

**When the World Bleeds Red**

Chapter Two: Live

-.-

Life was at a standstill, or so it seemed. Elizabeth sat on the outer porch of her home nursing a cup of green tea. She should have left for DC yesterday. Peter's silent joy when she didn't hadn't escaped her notice.

"One more week, please." She'd asked the owner of the National Gallery. He granted her wish after hearing the situation.

"Our deepest sympathies are with you, Elizabeth. I hope your friend is found soon."

Now it was midday and Elizabeth had yet to move from the seat she'd taken up residence in since an hour ago. Her tea was cold and her legs were cramping from their folded position.

The flowers she'd left unpacked were nodding their heads in time with the wind. Tulips, Peter's favourite. He said they reminded him of her.

According to him, when he'd first spotted her and started following her movements with the surveillance van, he'd passed a flower shop with a bunch of variegated tulips in the window.

The shop lady told him that those particular flowers, when given as a gift, meant _'you have beautiful eyes.'_

Elizabeth smiled. She'd laughed and blushed when Peter told her that story. It never ceased to amaze her that one flower could carry such meaning.

Love, as fierce and bright as the sun, filled her chest. _'Would it be selfish of me to move now?'_ Elizabeth wondered._ 'To leave all this behind, to only see Peter on weekends when I can commute?'_ This question she had been asking herself all night. There was no simple answer. She loved her husband like bees loved honey. In other words, she couldn't live without him.

_'And now Neal's been taken. How can I still consider going? Peter needs me here and I won't be able to work properly until I know Neal's safe.'_

She bit her lip hard. _'But…what about me?'_ that tiny, selfish part of her brain thought, _'The National Gallery is a really prestigious job. I'm always playing the supportive wife for Peter. What about my life, my career, my future? Why is it so selfish to want more?'_

An itch started on her left arm. She ground her fingers into the spot and didn't stop scratching, even after the sensation was gone.

"Stop." Peter's voice was sudden and jarring. His much larger hand wrapped around her smaller one. "You'll rub your skin raw."

"I didn't hear you come out." Elizabeth shifted on the loveseat to make room for him. Her train of thought slowly lost its steam, leaving her limp. She sagged against Peter when he sat. The dark circles under his eyes showed that he hadn't slept well. Elizabeth wondered if she looked the same. She felt his arm wrap around her and leaned further into the embrace.

"What are you thinking about?" Peter entwined their fingers. His touch was warm and gentle. Elizabeth swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat.

_'If I move I won't be able to hold hands with him like this anymore.'_ She thought.

"Hun?" Peter traced the line of her wrist with his thumb. "Talk to me, I'm worried about you."

"You should be worried about Neal." Elizabeth replied. "How are you going to find him, Peter?"

Peter was about to protest the change of topic but then decided not to push the issue. Elizabeth would talk when she was ready.

"We'll start by reviewing the park footage. There are camera's all around maybe one of them picked something up."

"What about eyewitnesses?"

"Mozzie's taking care of that."

They both fell silent. Elizabeth rested her head on Peter's shoulder. She could feel his muscles clenching and relaxing beneath her head. _'My solid rock.'_

"What do you suppose this is all about?" Peter spoke. Elizabeth looked up at him but he was staring at the horizon. He seemed to be talking more to himself than her. "Far too many people seem interested in Neal. Something hasn't sat right with me since the whole music box thing with Kate." He paused. "But that sounds ludicrous when I say it aloud."

"It is a little far-fetched, hun." Elizabeth nuzzled her cheek against Peter's shoulder. "But you'll figure it out. You always do."

"Because I have to." Peter looked down at his hands. "He's my responsibility, El." He twiddled his thumbs. "And he's my friend." He added, so quiet, that Elizabeth almost didn't hear him.

She didn't know what to say in reply, so she just squeezed her hand in his and together they just sat in the midday quiet bliss.

-.-

At two Peter left the house to meet Jones and Diana at the office. He stopped for coffee on the way knowing he'd need all his strength and then some.

Diana stumbled in looking like she'd had a night as bad as Peter's. Jones, ever stoic, wasn't showing much emotion.

"I pulled footage from all the park cameras, Peter." Jones dropped a DVD case on the long table in the meeting room. "Only two had angle's that caught sight of Caffrey."

"Let's see it then." Peter grunted. He took another sip of his espresso and tried to hide the slight shake in his fingers. Diana noticed. She sat beside him.

"How you holding up boss?"

"I'm fine."

Diana's look told him she saw right through the lie. "Now you know I know that's not true."

Jones was placing the DVD in the media centre at the front, not paying much mind to the whispering going on. Peter sighed.

"I don't even know what I'm feeling right now, Diana." He rubbed his temple. "I feel…" he trailed off and shook his head. "Never mind. Let's just do this. We need to find Neal."

"Boss…"

"I can't talk about this right now."

"Okay."

The silence was tense until Jones started the DVD player. When the footage came up Peter leaned forward in his seat.

The angle from the first video wasn't too good. It barely caught Neal walking up to a fellow reading a newspaper. What happened next was anyone's guess because Neal stepped back out of the frame. The second video caught Neal walking from the park railing overlooking the water. Peter blinked rapidly.

"That's it?"

"That's all. No other camera's were recording those areas." Jones sounded apologetic. Peter wanted to shout at him that it wasn't enough. He would never be able to continue convincing the board with such circumstantial evidence.

He pressed his lips together to refrain from saying something he'd later regret. Diana sensed his distress.

"Maybe Mozzie will have better luck with the eyewitnesses." She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You'll find him, Peter. You always do."

Peter pushed away from the table with a huff. "I wish everyone would stop saying that." He strode from the room ignoring his colleague's surprised expressions and went straight for the washroom where he stood at the sink staring at his reflection.

In the silence of the bathroom his thoughts were far too loud. Peter splashed water on his face and tried to block out the noise. He couldn't. He kept replaying his talk with Neal over and over in his mind. The way his shoulders had dropped when he heard the news, the way the light had dimmed from his eyes…

Without thinking Peter punched the mirror. It cracked where his fist connected with the surface. Pain flared through his arm, blood began oozing from his knuckles. He didn't care. Diana's words came back to him.

_'You'll find him, you always do.'_

Peter closed his eyes. Everyone had such faith in him finding Neal and he was only filled with doubt. If he were being completely honest with himself he'd only found Neal the first time because he'd willingly walked into the storehouse looking for Kate. The second time he hadn't been running he'd been sitting in an empty apartment with nothing but a bottle for company, and the third time Ellen had given him the pager number.

_'You'll find him, you always do.'_ Peter punched the mirror again. What if this was the one time he couldn't?

-.-

When Neal came to he was lying on something soft. He rolled over, groaning when his side screamed in protest. Memories came flooding back. Kinky boots had found him; he'd been re-captured and chloroformed.

_'Great.'_ Neal thought. He rubbed his eyes feeling absolutely miserable. _'Nothing can ever go right, can it?'_

He was never one to wallow in self-pity, but after everything that had happened he felt he deserved at least five minutes of sulking. He didn't allow himself to go over the allotted timeframe though. It wouldn't do to get too depressed, it would cloud his judgment and he needed to stay sharp.

Neal sat up when five minutes passed. The pain in his side had dulled from harsh to a low throb. He assessed the situation with a critical eye. He was in a dark room on a small cot. The door was ajar giving way to the only source of light.

The sound of voices reached his ears. They were conversing in low tones with occasional pauses. Neal approached the door with caution. He poked his head around it so only the tip of his nose and one eye showed. A long corridor was before him. No one was in the sight. The voices were coming from the end of the corridor.

Neal withdrew to think. Dare he sneak out? _'These people wouldn't be so lax unless they were sure I can't escape.'_ He thought. _'They left the door open in all confidence. Maybe they have cameras recording the hallways or grills on all windows. Either way, escaping will not be as easy as last time.'_

The room was large enough to allow ample pacing. Neal walked back and forth trying to formulate a plan. Walk, walk, walk – pause, shuffle – turn, repeat. For almost ten minutes he trod back and forth and at the end, still had no plausible plans for escape.

"This is useless." Neal sat on the cot and buried his head in his hands. His fingers curled into his hair like tree roots digging into dirt. _'Don't panic, you cannot lose it now.'_ His mind told him. Neal tried to agree with the logic but he was slowly losing hope. His life was just one big mess. What was the point in living anymore?

Quick as lightning, another memory hit him. It was so vivid that Neal almost passed out from the sensation. He flopped back on the cot holding his head.

Kate…two days before the plane incident she had contacted him. It was just a simple voice message left in their code. She'd told him how much she loved him and that she was sorry for all the mysterious notes.

_"But, Neal."_ She'd said. _"Regardless of what happens after this, no matter what. I need you to promise me something."_ She paused, and Neal remembered how his heart had clenched, how in that moment, he'd stood on his balcony overlooking the city and felt an icy fear clawing its way into his heart like it knew what was coming ages before he did.

_"No matter what happens."_ Kate's voice was a whisper now. _"Promise me you will live."_ The line clicked dead. Neal lowered the phone from his ear and stared at the city lights until dawn came.

_'Live.'_ Neal thought. His headache was fading. He swung upright still feeling a little woozy from the memory. Kate wanted him to live. He bowed his head for a brief moment. For four years her request had kept him going.

_'Promise me you'll live.'_ Even when he'd felt like giving up after his commutation went south, even after he wanted to call it quits when Ellen was murdered, even when everything in his life seemed like it was crumbling _'promise me you'll live'_ was what kept him going.

"I promised you." Neal said quietly. "I went back to the hanger and promised you I would."

Neal jumped up. There was no time to lose. Dying was not an option. Giving up was unthinkable.

_'I am Neal Caffrey.'_ He told himself firmly. _'My life may always be hell, but I'll NEVER back down.'_

And with those words echoing in his mind, Neal Caffrey strode right out the door, down the corridor and into the unknown.

_'Live.'_


	3. A note

A little note about this story:

I'm sorry to say that I will no longer be posting on this site.

The rest of this story can be found at Archiveofourown under the same name 'When The World Bleeds Red.' My user name is also the same, minus the 'Syd.' Regular updates will be posted. The story over there is currently up to four chapters. It is always updated within two days.

Thanks again and sorry for any inconvenience.

-CP

P.S: A link to make everything easier. www dot archiveofourown dot org /works /1164890 /chapters /2368190. Remove all spaces and replace dot with an actual dot.


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